Dreamweaver
by Anda chan
Summary: *Chapter 8 Up!* Things are happening to Aya that he cannot even explain himself. A certain member of Schwarz seems to be involved. ^_^ Shounen-ai. Pairing(s): Heh... well, you'll have to read.
1. Chapter 1

**Dreamweaver**

By: Andariel

Disclaimer:  Unfortunately, I don't own any of the boys.  They belong to Project Weiß and all the over lovely people that created them.  I'm simply having some fun.

Notes: No spoilers so far but I can't guarantee that it will continue like this as the story progresses.  I'm being led around by my muses so you'll probably find some weird stuff as you read on.

**Chapter One**

A splatter of crimson fell upon purest snow-like marble features.  There was no time to pause, however, that blade was never given a moment of rest before its slim, crisp metal surface was tainted once again.  Finally they stopped coming.  Black boots whispered lightly against the red tainted floors, their surface already becoming sticky with the blood of the victims that had been found guilty under the cross.  The thin wooden door of the office was closed.  A breath touched pallid lips before the ever-annoying static sounded on his earpiece.

"Aya, do you copy?" Rang Omi's cheerful voice.  Was the kid ever not so goddamn cheerful?

"Yeah, what is it?"

"Yohji-kun and Ken-kun have cleared the rest of the way.  We're home free."

No response.  The blade was slid back into the comfort of its sheathe.  Steps sounded against marble floor, echoing ever slightly in the hollow hallway.

"Aya-kun?"

Amethyst colored eyes narrowed ever so slightly at the voice in his ear.  "I heard you.  I'll be out front in a few minutes."  He said emotionlessly and disabled the communicator at once.  His head was throbbing mercilessly.  The last thing he wanted was Omi's cheerful voice echoing through his mind.  The mission had been completed, now there were other things to worry about.

The hallways were like a maze but the Weiß assassin was not the least worried about getting out on time; as Bombay had informed him: they were home free.  Something caught his attention as he strode down the main hall: his own reflection in a darkened mirror that ran along the wall on his right.  Aya paused, giving it a sideways glance.  There was a spot of red marring that flawless, pallid face.  It was as if it was competing among the bright crimson strands that fell over those icy eyes.  He wiped it off almost desperately before continuing on his way.  

_There's too much blood on my hands._

* * * 

The automatic sliding glass doors opened soundlessly as Abyssinian made his way through the front hall and finally out onto the street.  A gust of wind blew that night, catching him by surprise and spoiling that ever-perfect emotionless mask with the slightest flinch.  He could hear the voices of his teammates off to the side.  He turned, appearantly walking toward them.  Their conversation paused as they greeted him and jumped in Yohji's car.  

Aya extended his hand, placing his katana in the gloved hand of a now confused Ken.

"Aya!  Where are you going?" Inquired Siberian, as puzzled as the others.

Their only response was the blood spotted black trench being dropped into the backseat before its owner continued on his way, silently down the street.  Gloved hands were stuffed into matching black pockets.  Despite the cold, he did not even shiver as the chill breeze grazed his bare arms.   Aya bowed his head, amethyst eyes drifting shut for a few seconds before focusing instead on the stone sidewalk ahead of him.  

"Oi.  Where does he think he's going like that?"  Muttered Ken as he handed the sheathed katana to Omi, which stuck it beneath the coat on the backseat.  

"Our job is done here.  He's free to do as he pleases."  Said Yohji as he struggled with his lighter, after a few tries finally managing to light up a cigarette.  The older assassin was met with Ken's narrowed eyes.  

"Hmf."

Yohji started up the car and promptly took off.  Despite his efforts, his emerald gaze drifted toward Aya as they passed him.  The Abyssinian was not even aware of their presence.  Or, if he was, he had simply chosen to ignore it.  Something was stirring beneath that cold, never changing expression of his.  Whatever it was, it had been getting worse after each passing mission.  Yohji just needed to know what it was.  But gods, the younger man looked beautiful when he brooded.  No, he looked beautiful either way, but astonishingly tempting when he brooded.

A long drag was taken from his cigarette.  He drove on.

* * * 

It felt almost sacrilegious to stand out there, glassy eyes staring at the name of the building before him: Magic Bus Hospital.  How could he keep coming back here night after night with another man's blood on his hands?  

These thoughts were pushed aside as Aya crossed toward the main opening.  Within, the nurses no longer questioned him – they hadn't done so ever since the first week.  It had now been two years.  

The stairs were climbed; the hallway was covered all in what seemed to be hours.  Such a little trip that always took so much out of him.  No mission could ever wear him down such as that daily walk down that hospital hallway.  Its plain walls, its desperately cheering pictures, the faded carpet, the scent of disinfectant cleaner and medicine combined flowing through the air ducts.  It was a place he had always avoided like the plague; something he did not even think about until that fateful night two years ago.  

Gloved hands balled into fists as he stopped in front of the door.  "Fujimiya Aya," read the name by the door.  The fists loosened.  He exhaled and opened the door.  Stepping into that room was like stepping into another reality.  Something he was no longer a part of.

Even his cold mask cracked ever slightly at the sight of his stoic-faced sister, lying there on that miserable hospital bed.  He allowed the door to close lightly behind him and moved forward.  The beeping sounds of the machine were endless but this he did not mind; it gave him a sense of hope that someday during one of these visits she would open her eyes.  Maybe… someday.  

The lonely wooden chair waited for him in the corner.  Gloved fingers swept over its smooth wooden surface, tugging it forward toward the despairing hospital bed.  He sat in silence, watching her ageless face so smooth in deep slumber.  There were no worries, no lines of struggle in her innocent features but there was no smile either.  No cheerful eyes that widened every time she saw him.  No bubbling laughter emitting from her throat.  

Nothingness.  Ever since Takatori Reji took away that beautiful spark of life.  

Amethyst eyes narrowed, then closed as his body shuddered involuntarily.  He pulled the black leather from his fingers, then leaned closer, touching that silky-smooth face; brushing away thick strands of chestnut hair from eternally shut lids.  

The hours passed without him even realizing it. He didn't remember falling asleep the previous night. He remembered the blood, the pleas for mercy where there were none. One that was judged before the cross no longer deserved a chance at mercy; those were the rules regardless of which the target was. He remembered walking away after the mission; Ken's puzzling look and Yohji's understanding one. But, did he really understand? Could anyone ever understand the despairing loophole that had become of his life? Of course not. Everyone just saw him as the cold, unfeeling bastard who didn't give a shit about anyone else.

Consciousness took him in stages. It took a few moments for him to realize exactly where he was. The endless beeping... Aya. Amethyst eyes fluttered open. Bright sunlight streamed in through the large windows, cheerfully bathing the solemn room. Aya-chan remained unchanged. Long fingers ran through thick strands of red hair. He pushed himself up.  Certainly the others were up by now and wondering where he had gone off to.  It wasn't his habit to stay out all night.  He'd been tired, weary and lacking the effort to make it back home – if one could even call it such.

Aya looked to his slumbering sister, and touched her pale hand as if in reassurance.  No words were needed here.  He would be back that night, or the following morning.  It was routine.  Painful, heartbreaking routine.  He turned, leaving as silently as he had entered.  The door was shut softly behind him.

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Okay, so not too much going on just yet.  I promise it'll get better.  ^^;  Reviews? Anyone?


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimers:  I _still_ don't own the boys.  How I wish I did.  Read on and don't sue.  

**Chapter Two**

"Aya-kun," came the soft exclamation from Omi as Aya entered through the kitchen door.  He had been hoping to make it to his room without being spotted, stopped, interrogated, and looked after, concerned over.  Anything.  His head hurt.  He was definitely not feeling up to petty explanations that led to nowhere.  He simply glanced to the kid and moved on.  Luckily Omi knew when to shut up – unlike the other two, who always had something to say or ask despite his obvious mood.  Sometimes he wondered if Omi wasn't the elder one of the group after all.

"Didn't even come home last night.  Lucky bastard."  Damnit.  Yohji had already been up.  What the hell was he doing up at this hour?  He thought irritably.  That was, however, before he caught a glimpse of the time.

**12:48**

He hadn't realized how late it had gotten.  Yohji's comment was met with silence and his infamous "leave me the fuck alone" look.  That was when he noticed the older man's half naked, sleep tousled look.  How his thin, black sweat pants hung dangerously low on his slender hips; the way his toned muscles were outlined by the shadows created by the light streaming in through the half-shut shades of his room; the haphazard yet incredibly sexy way his lightly colored chestnut hair just barely brushed his shoulders, thick strands obscuring his bright emerald gaze.  

_What am I doing?!_ Aya reprimanded himself and looked away, pushing past his partner yet making sure not to touch that deliciously appealing flesh as he ascended toward the sanctuary of his room.

Finally, he was alone.  Aya moved toward the bed and simply allowed himself to flop forward onto the comfortable mattress.  An exhale was loosed through thin lips.  His attention was lost from the world.

* * * 

"Oi!  Aya!" called Yohji for the fourth time in the last fifty seconds.  "C'mon man, we've got a frigging mission."  He knocked yet again but there was still no answer from within.  Yohji usually knew better than to stop into Aya's personal space but this was a different case.  He tried the knob: it turned.  The door was pushed open.  "Aya?"  He called quietly, peeking into the darkness that had consumed the small room.  The shades had been drawn shut, allowing no light inside.  All he could make out was the familiar outline of his teammate lying motionless upon the bed.  This was very unlike Aya.  True that he locked himself up in his room for hours at a time sometimes but to spend the night out like that and simply collapse once he got home?  Definitely not like Aya.

Yohji allowed himself into the room and shut the door softly behind him before carefully approaching the bed; the last thing he wanted was to trip on something and end up face down on the floor with a loud clatter.  That would've probably been the worse way to wake his teammate.  Not to mention a dangerous one as well.  He noticed the younger man's deadly katana lying against the bedside table within easy reach.  Yes, definitely a dangerous method that would be.

Aya was appearantly out cold.  Stomach down on top of the mattress in the same clothes he had worn during the previous night's mission.  With two exceptions: he had managed to kick off his boots and rid himself of his shirt.  The long red strands of his ear tails fell messily over the pillow; thick bangs over his lidded eyes; soft black lashes touching silky white skin.  He looked peaceful almost.  Beautiful, oh most definitely.  Yohji felt almost entranced looking at the sleeping wonder before him.

Moments later, he caught himself.

"Aya," he tried again, his voice soft and low.  He touched the younger man's naked shoulder, shaking him slightly.

No response.

Just as Yohji had leaned down to try again, an overly hyper and complaining Omi startled him.  Not to mention so goddamn loud!

"Yohji-kun!  What is taking you so long?"

Yohji, startled and half leaning over the bed, lost his balance.  The result: an awkward collapse over the younger assassin.  The overhead light was turned on by the disruptor's fingers, which upon seeing the scene on top of the bed blinked.  He looked to both of his elder teammates, a little dumbfound even.  There was Aya and Yohji.  The former uncharacteristically undressed and… blushing? 

"…am I interrupting anything?"

Yohji scrambled off the bed, trying to avoid the definite _shi-ne look_ that was being thrown his way.  "Iya, baka!"  He managed to respond harshly after a few tries with no result.  "You scared the shit out of me and I fell."  

_What a lame excuse._

Aya still glared.  Somewhat confused, somewhat perturbed by the fact something had gone on without him noticing and shaken by the obviously rude, yet not exactly unpleasant, awakening.  

"What do you want?" Questioned Aya when he was finally conscious and coherent enough to focus on getting the icy tone back into his voice.

"We have a mission."  Yohji quickly announced, already moving toward the door and past a grinning yet somewhat puzzled Omi.  The kid was frighteningly enlightened sometimes.

Aya pushed himself up, catching a glimpse of his alarm clock in the process.

**6:53pm**

He had just lost six hours without even realizing it.  Now was not the time to wonder about these things, however.  After pulling on a fresh shirt, he padded downstairs into the basement they used as their briefing room.  Amethyst eyes remained emotionless even as he noticed Yohji's slightly uncomfortable form sprawled over one of the couches.  He exchanged a glance with Manx and leaned back against the back wall near the stairs.  Arms were crossed over his chest; head ever so slightly bowed as he listened to Persia's briefing of their next mission on the large screen.  

Only mere seconds later the screen flickered off.  "Any questions?"  Came Manx's ever-casual voice as she looked around the room.  By the looks on the Weiß member's faces, she didn't even have to ask just show would be participating in the current mission.

"If the guy's targets are girls in their late teens, just how are we supposed to even get near him?"  Ken asked her, looking over the back of the couch.

"That is your job to figure out," she responded with a hardly innocent grin.

"Oy!" Ken exhaled, and then flopped back down.

"Is there anything else we might find useful?" Aya broke the silence this time.

"Iyah." Was Manx's only quiet response.

With that, Abyssinian pushed himself away from the wall and ascended the stairs in silence.

"What's with him?"  Questioned Ken.

Silence was his only reply.

_______________________________________________

Yes so…  yes, got some odd stuff going on here.  They'll be explained… eventually.  ^^;;  Reviews? Anyone?


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer:  Again, I don't own them.  Just having fun.  Excuse any OOC.  I'm trying to be as IC as possible under the given circumstances.  ^_^

**Chapter Three**

Something wasn't right.  Something sure as hell did not feel right.  

Aya exhaled deeply, resting both palms of his hands on the wooden kitchen table as he waited for the room to stop spinning.  It was starting to make him nauseous – something that just did not happen to him.

The footsteps coming up the stairs forced him to stand back up, collect his mask and defensives even though he should have been running away from any unwanted encounter right about now.

When he turned he came face to face with bright emerald eyes.  Yohji blinked, obviously not having been expecting the encounter.

"You alright?"  He asked his younger teammate.  "You look kinda pale."

"I'm fine," was the only response uttered out of those tightly pursed lips before he moved away with some urgency.

"By the way," Yohji called.

Aya paused, not turning but simply waiting for the other to continue.

"Sakura-chan stopped by earlier."

"Nani?"

"She was looking for you.  Maybe you shouldn't be so cold to her, yanno…" Yohji was left talking to himself.  Aya had already escaped further lectures.  "K'so…" he muttered.

* * *

As it turned out Omi made quite the cute girl but definitely not the right age as their target was looking for.  Naturally Ken ended up fitting the part.  And rather reluctantly, as is to be expected.  The moment Siberian descended the steps into the kitchen where the others already awaited, three pairs of eyes blinked at him.  Even Aya, who never allowed any sort of emotion break through that icicle-like demeanor almost cracked a grin.  Almost.

Ken was fuming.  He stood there in a pair of black pleather pants, which rode dangerously low on his hips.  A matching low-rise silver shirt hung surprisingly well from his shoulders - perhaps it had something to do with the nicely defined pair of breasts he had grown in just a few minutes.  His short brown hair had been tucked beneath a dirty blonde wig that feathered his shoulders.  Ever-stylish high-heeled boots completed the outfit.  

He almost rivaled Yohji himself, which obviously had been the source of at least half of the outfit.

"Well," Yohji cleared his throat and adjusted his shades on the tip of his perfectly shaped nose.  "It's almost tempting to try my never-failing charms on you, Kenken."

"Shut up."  Ken muttered and stormed past them into the garage where the Seven awaited their presence.

"You forgot your purse, Kenken!"  Teased Omi, running after him with a stylish black lady's purse large enough to carry his trusted weapon.  Just in case there were any problems and the others weren't around.

"Traitor," muttered Ken and climbed onto the back seat.

* * *

Amethyst eyes narrowed before the flashing neon blue sign reading "The Hideout."  Aya stood across the street from the building, silently watching the wave of eager bodies go through the ID check at the doors.  All to join the already thick cloud of teens moving to the heavy beats of synthesized music - what they liked to call techno.  He just didn't understand the point of it all.  He watched Yohji and Ken easy go through the check.  It seemed that the bouncer already recognized Yohji from an earlier date.  Not surprising.  Balinese had dressed for the occasion and probably a little too well: hip hugging black vinyl pants complimented those long legs of his; the traditional belly shirt hug tightly to his nicely toned upper body, the well-chosen tone of forest green drawing even more attention to those emerald eyes, once again hidden behind his much-loved shades.  As if all this wasn't enough, a long white coat hung open from his shoulders, flapping quietly with his every step.  The man was sex on two legs.  And knew it.

"..inian?"

Aya was startled away from his thought process.  Damnit, he'd been caught inattentive.  

"Yeah, what is it?" He answered without sounding too snappish.

"I'm in position.  It's all clear for you."  It was Bombey.

"Alright."  He responded, crossing the street.  Even in his mission gear he got the usual admiring looks but none dared to approach.  He moved quietly into the shadows of the small alley beside the club.  There was nothing but a single entrance into the building and plenty of large garbage bags filled with empty beer cans.  Further up was a set of iron gates, shut and locked to keep away any intruders.  However it wasn't meant to keep Aya out.  Moving with the grace and stealth complimented by his code name, he effectively climbed over the heavy iron-gate.  He surveyed the lot before dropping silently to the ground in a neat crouch.

"How are you guys doing in there?"  He heard Bombey address the others.  Two affirmative replies followed.

"No signs of trouble just yet."  Added Yohji.  Aya could almost see him weaving through the crowd with Ken closely at his side.  It was almost enough to feel jealous over.  

Jealousy? Aya?  Since when?!

He scoffed to himself and walked across the dark lot.  Few cars had been parked there that night.  Obviously the VIP count that night wasn't too high.  He wasn't sure whether this was a good or a bad sign, but frankly he couldn't find it in himself to care.  But just why couldn't he get the image of Yohji draped over Ken out of his mind?  He'd never cared about this sort of thing before so why the hell now?  And why in the middle of a mission when his focus had never failed him before.  They would probably even go as far as making it look "real" for the sake of the mission if it came down to it.  Gloved fingers tightened around the hilt of his trusted katana as he struggled to remain focused on the matter at hand.

_Is that ever-cold mask crumbling beneath the jaws of jealousy?_

The laughing voice inside his head caused him to freeze dead in his tracks.  He scanned his surroundings closely, searching for any signs of the intruder.  There was nothing but darkness around him, however.  

Perhaps he had just imagined it.

_Don't flatter yourself._

Again Aya froze, this time certain that this wasn't just a product of his imagination.  He did not respond but did not precede either.  He could hear Ken announce that he had spotted the target and was moving on with the plan, but none of this really registered in his brain.  His gloved hand twitched around the leather bound hilt of his sound.

Finally the source of his distraction made himself known.  It was a face Aya had seen before and identified as an enemy without the slightest of hesitations.  Fiery red hair brushed dark green clad shoulders.  A wicked grin touched the other man's lips as he leaned against the side of a car, hands casually seeping into his pant pockets.  A brow was arced, grin widening; teasing, mocking, distracting.

"Aya, come in!" It was the third time Yohji screamed in his ear.  "We need you in here damnit!"

"Goddamn it Aya!  What the fuck are you doing?"  It was Ken.  Something was obviously going on in there.

"Schwarz," was his only response as the black sheathe of his katana fell to the concrete floor.

"Whoa," Schuldich laughed.  "Aren't you the poster boy for lack of anger management?"  He quickly leaped to safety.  To Aya's misfortune, the Schwarz member was much too quick, despite his skills.

Abyssinian stumbled forward and reached out.  A gloved hand connected with the window of the car, stopping him from the impact.  After taking a moment to compose himself, he whirled around, amethyst orbs narrowing on the ever-smirking man.  

"What are you doing here?" Hissed Aya, giving him his copyrighted glare of death.  Even the blazing sun would freeze under such icy scrutiny.

Schuldich simply moved fiery strands behind his shoulder.  "You amuse me, my dear white hunter."

_I am not yours._  Aya muttered silently, thoughtless of Schuldich's ability to hear him just as well, if not even better.  He was met with a wide green and Schu's fingers digging into his chin.  The icy expression was replaced by one of surprise.

"Let go of me!"

"All in due time.  Ran."

___________________________________________________

I'm evil, I know.  ::Grin.::  You may squirm until the next chapter pops out of my mind.  Reviews? Anyone?****


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Bright violet colored eyes widened upon hearing his name upon the man's – his enemy's – lips.  How could he possibly know his name?  What the hell did he even want?  He found himself staring into those almost hypnotic orbs of swirling emerald, much like Yo… A gasp of surprise escaped his slightly parted lips.  Behind him was the very hard surface of the brick wall of the building.  He was being pushed back against it, held there regardless of his wishes.  He felt his katana slip from his fingers.  In fact, felt his whole body relax despite his silent reprimands to stay focused.  He was on a mission, this was the enemy.  Why was this happening now of all times?

Aya found it in himself to struggle – although somewhat weakly – against his rival.  Schuldich held him too strongly, however, too damn firmly for him to even have a standing chance at a decent protest.

"Shh, my kitten."  Came that mercilessly, torturously taunting voice.  His breathe touching Aya's neck with an almost seductive purr.  The hands on his leather-clad chest firm and no longer met with resistance.  Simply the rhythmic rise and fall of the Weiß leader's chest.

"I…" Aya croaked, finding it even hard to speak.  He felt unnaturally weak.  His head was leaned back against the wall, amethyst eyes drifting shut beneath heavy lids as a faint exhale touched his lips.  

"Your friends come to your rescue.  How sweet."  Through his haze Aya felt the other man slowly let go of the grip he had on him, but not before pressing a forceful kiss to the base of his neck.  The black turtleneck would hide any marks of evidence from his teammates – for now at least.  But Aya would know, he was still conscious as he felt the tease of silky lips, the scraping of sharp teeth, the flick of a taunting tongue.  It was engraved in his memory whether he wanted it or not.

Mere seconds later Schuldich was gone and Aya found himself sliding down the wall to finally collapse on his side to the concrete floor beneath.  For the second time that day he drifted from the ever-hectic world.  No sounds from within the club stirred him; the annoying music still beat, the bass line being ever so slightly heard through the thick walls.  He wondered idly if the others had completed the mission.  He remembered them calling out to him… something had gone wrong, or probably proved more problematic as they had expected.  They could handle it though.  Someone was screaming into his head.  The com was still on, he realized.  Had they been silent all this time or had he just blocked them out somehow?  He couldn't make out the voice… it was fuzzy but calling out to him, trying to figure out where he was and if he was all right.  

Aya couldn't answer.  Couldn't move.

Consciousness had left him once again.  There was little else left…

Darkness…

   Silence….

* * * 

"Aya…" came the whisper from trembling lips.

_Not this dream again..._

Bubbling laughter sounded so sweet to his ears… it put him at ease almost, brought him back to the once happy world he used to belong to.  A world torn away from him… from her all within the length of one fateful minute.  That cute little innocent smile taken away, a smile that used to bring him to his knees – figuratively speaking – when he tried to oppose her of something.  He never won a battle with her.  But now there were no more battles to win or to loose, in fact he had already lost it all… that night.  It was raining then, just like it was raining now, he could hear the steady beating against the window.  It was soothing, but he couldn't think of rain as soothing anymore.  It was torturous, every falling drop a memory lost, another that would never happen.

The screeching tires… the muddy ground due to the downpour of rain that night… the never wavering headlights… not even a scream of complaint.  Just… the dull thud, a wicked grin flashed back at him as he stared in shock, screaming her name… gone… all gone.

* * *

Aya sat up suddenly with a gasp to find himself back in his room.  A dozing Yohji sat in a chair beside the bed, his arms crossed over his chest.  He still wore his mission outfit, minus the long coat.  What had happened?  Why was Yohji sitting there as if standing watch?  His heart raced, distraught from the vivid dream that haunted him for two years now.  Always the same… always the same ending.  His head was throbbing, a dull pain as if he'd been hit.  Reaching up with shaky pale fingers, he touched that pained spot.  A flinch was enough to confirm the obvious.  How it had happened he was not sure but it didn't matter much now.

Exhaling quietly, he noticed a bundle of black at the edge of the bed: a bundle he recognized as half of his mission clothes.  He blinked.  Someone had taken the liberty not only of dragging him up to his own room but also release him of his coat and turtleneck before letting him rest.  This made him feel awkward.  He hated to have others do things for him; after all, he was quite capable of taking care of himself.  Well… there were a few incidents in which things did not turn out as well as expected, but those were the special cases.  … such as this one.  

He lay back down, staring at the plain white ceiling above him for a moment when it hit him.  Amethyst eyes widened ever slightly, his breath caught in his throat for a moment by the soft purring in his ear… the brightest of green eyes.

Schuldich.

He remembered now.  Desperately, he touched the side of his neck, then quickly pushed himself out of bed and dashed to the dresser to look at himself in the mirror.  There it was, faint but still there: the evidence that he hadn't just dreamed all of the previous night's events.  The well defined print of teeth and the dark outline of forceful lips upon pale skin.  Had the others noticed? Perhaps it had been too dark… they had been too worried to notice.

His desperate scramble toward the dresser had stirred Yohji out of his light slumber but the older assassin hadn't said anything yet.  It was when Aya caught those piercing eyes of shimmering emerald looking at him through the reflecting surface of the mirror that he turned, his cold mask falling like a heavy curtain over his previously vulnerable expression.

Both men looked at one another.  Yohji was the first to break the almost unnerving silence.  "You alright?"

"I'm fine."  Was Aya's only reply.  Not a surprise.  _Why is he still here?_ He thought to himself.  _And why is he looking at me like that?_

"We found you out cold in the parking lot.  What happened out there?"

Aya glanced away.  "Nothing."

"The hell it was nothing."  Yohji stood.  "You said something about Schwarz before cutting off communications with us.  What the hell happened to you?"

"Aren't you supposed to be in someone else's bed right now?" Aya responded bitterly, moving past the older assassin.  Or trying to – Yohji had grabbed his shoulder and turned the younger redhead around to face him, who simply responded with his copyrighted glare.

"Don't give me that bullshit.  I've been here all fuckin' night looking after your sorry ass.  I'm really getting tired of playing nurse every time you decide to go at it with someone and end up KO-ed!"

"I never asked you to do anything."  Aya responded almost weakly.

"We're a goddamn team.  Open your eyes and start realizing that before going all kamikaze on us."

"Let go of me."

Yohji blinked, not having realized he was still holding onto Aya's bare shoulder.  He moved his hand quietly but continued to look firmly at the younger man.

"What?"  Aya questioned, beginning to feel awkwardly uncomfortable beneath that intense gaze.

"Uh.. oh nothing."  Yohji muttered and started to walk away.  However, before he reached the door he came to a halt.  "Aya?"

"Nani?"  Came the irritable reply.

The older man turned.  The short distance between them was covered with just a few steps.  Before Aya even had the chance to react he felt the warm silkiness of Yohji's lips upon his own; the grip of slender fingers twisting into his hair.  Stunned, he did not return the gesture but did not pull away from it either.  The playboy broke it himself moments later.

It all would've ended fine if he hadn't opened his mouth, however.  "Eh, Aya… how did you manage that hickey?"

Amethyst eyes narrowed.  Aya responded the best way he knew how:  a vicious backhand connected the with older man's jaw.

- - - - - - - - - - - 

Yohji's got a big mouth, ne?  ::Grin.::  Remember, reviews get me writing faster.  ^_^


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer:  I _still_ don't own the boys.  How I wish I did.  Enjoy.  ^^

**Chapter Five**

            The slamming of doors was enough to get the attention of the younger half of Weiß.  Ken and Omi dashed into the hallway to find Yohji standing outside Aya's door with a quite dumbfound look on his face, accented by the bright redness to his left cheek and the split lip he touched gingerly.  Yohji stared at the shut door was if it were foreign thing he had never before seen in his twenty-two yearlong life.

            "What the hell did you do now?" Asked Ken upon seeing Aya's imprinted hand on the other man's cheek.

            "The bastard hit me."  He responded simply with a mutter and began to walk away toward his room to tend his "injuries."  No bruises would mar Kudou Yohji's pretty face; no split lip would go on for more than he could help.  He wasn't sure what he had been thinking first by kissing Aya like that and then finishing it with such an absurd question.  He had been _asking_ for that backhand.  

* * *

            Aya wasn't sure what to think at that moment.  He had hit Yohji simply out of pure instinct.  Why had he brought up that damn mark on the side of his neck… that "hickey" as it had been referred to.  He hated that word.  It made him feel dirty – if that was the right word for it.  But then, no one gave it a second thought when Yohji came home with obvious traces of a hot date from the previous night.  In fact, Ken and Omi usually teased him about it, yet cheered him on.  It was different though.  Aya did not date.  It was a well-known fact.

            _… he kissed me._  He suddenly realized.  **_Yohji _**_kissed **me**._

            It was when he turned away from the door that Ken simply burst inside.  Did the guy even know the meaning of knocking?

            Obviously not.

            "Yo, Aya. What the hell just happened between you and Yohji?" He demanded none too happily.

            "Hn." Was Aya's only reply.  The icy Weiß leader had not even bothered to turn around and look at him.  Instead, he moved to the dresser, from which he withdrew a change of clothes.

            "What kind of fuckin' answer is that… hey!  I'm talking to you.  Wh-where the hell are you going?  Pay attention to me damnit!"  Ken shouted after him.  

            Aya had casually taken his clothes and moved past the hotheaded assassin, moving down the hall toward the bathroom.  But before he managed to get the door shut and locked, Ken pushed it back open and stepped inside, ignoring the Glares O' Death© that were being cast his way.

            "Do you mind?" he asked the former soccer player in a weary but nevertheless icy tone.

            "Yes, I do as a matter of fact."  Ken held the door open.  Just in case Aya had any ideas of forcing him out by shutting it in his face.  It definitely wouldn't be the first time it would happen.  "What gives you the right to punch Yohji like that?"

            Silence

            "Well, answer me damnit!"

            "Leave me alone…" Came the quiet warning.

            "Not until I get an answer out of you."

            The clothes Aya had carried in from his room were set down on the edge of the sink.  Amethyst eyes met cyan ones, narrowed and demanding for answers, through the small mirror in front of him.  "Have you asked him?"

            Ken was taken back by the unexpected response.  "Well."  A pause.  "Iyah."

            "Then go do that and leave me alone."  Returned Aya, turning around to press a hand firmly to Ken's chest.  The younger man was pushed back and out onto the hall.  The door, slammed shut.  Aya leaned back against it, exhaling wearily.

            Finally alone.

            _You are never truly alone my beautiful kitten._

            That voice!  Aya pushed himself away from the door and whirled around.  Obviously the small bathroom was deserted and he simply came face to face with his own reflection in the small mirror over the sink.  He recognized that voice… it was the voice that had taunted him the previous night.  The one responsible for whatever had happened in that parking lot.  The mission could've been a failure because of him.  Yet the teasing, soft breath that taunted his ear with a whisper was hard to forget, or the sweep of silky lips past his own.  

            No!

            Aya turned away from the reflection in the mirror, which had distorted itself to reveal the face that taunted him, those shining jade orbs, that wolf-like grin.  With a snarl at himself, he stepped out of the black mission pants he still wore and stepped into the shower.  The water was allowed to run cold for a few minutes, chilling him, causing shivers to tease his body but it felt good nevertheless.  It even seemed to help him get those nonsense thoughts out of his mind.  Since when did he think like that about the enemy?  Hell!  Since when did he even think like that about anyone?  Enemy or not, he had no time for this nonsense.  His mind was set on one single thing and that was revenge.  He would avenge his sister if it was the last thing he did.  

            _And then what, little kitten?  After Takatori is dead, what will you do?_

            It was hard to distinct his own voice from that taunting whisper that intruded his mind.  

            "Leave me alone, you fucking bastard."  He hissed quietly, forcing his eyes shut as the water streamed down his face.

            _Not until I get what I want_… the voice was nearly purring now.  This plus the chilly water temperate made Aya shiver involuntarily.  

            "What do you want?"  Another hiss.  He wondered why he was even playing along with this game.  If anyone saw this they'd be sure he had lost his mind for good.  Answering the voices in his head.  He sure was starting to lose it.

            _Your beautiful body sprawled in ecstasy over black satin sheets…_  

            Aya paled considerably and made a grab for the marble wall, supporting himself against the effect that perfect purr had over his body.  The damn body that betrayed him.  But it wasn't always so.  Why was it happening now?  He shut his eyes, pressing them almost painfully shut so that he would go away.  His mind was toying with him.  Lately he hadn't been feeling too well; maybe that was why these things had been happening.

            Surely there was a perfectly sound explanation for this.  His breath was shaky, uneven.  What was happening to him?

* * *

            Minutes later he stepped out of the shower and made a shaky grab for a towel, holding it against himself.  The whispering inside his head had stopped but it had only been replaced by self-questioning and reprimands that led nowhere.  He managed to slip into the clean clothes he'd brought in when getting way from Ken and finally emerged into the hallway.  It was deserted, thankfully.  He noticed the door to Yohji's room was ajar – it was shut completely when he left his room.

            It didn't matter.

            _Not even when he kissed you…?_

            Not again… please not again.  He clenched his teeth and moved downstairs.  His stomach was complaining; he hadn't eaten anything since before they had left on the mission the previous night.  

            _It didn't mean anything, you realize.  You know he's but a slut, you're but another conquest._

            Aya paused halfway down the stairs.  His hand tightening ever slightly around the handrail.  A conquest… it did make sense, didn't it?  Yohji lived for his nightly conquests.  Perhaps he'd been searching for a challenge.  What better challenge than the self-reserved, icy leader that did not give a shit about anyone else other than his comatose sister.  It made perfect sense.  

            Setting his perfect mask of ice in place, he continued down the stairs.

* * *

            After storming into his room, Yohji had searched madly for an anti bruising cream he kept just for situations like these.  He sat on the windowsill overlooking the street, smoking in silence when Ken walked in.  Someone had to teach him about knocking.  He had more than once stumbled upon Yohji and one of his few dates he brought home with him.  It was much safer to go back to their place instead of allowing a stranger within their home.  There was too much at risk.

            The older man glanced up, emerald eyes peeking out from beneath wavy strands of golden brown hair.  A brow was arced questioningly as he exhaled a cloud of smoke into the air.

            "What happened out there?"  Was Ken's first question.  His tone, unlike with Aya previously, was reasonably calm, worried even.

            Yohji blinked and looked back toward the window, taking another long drag from his cancer stick.  "It was nothing."

            "You're starting to act like him!"  The younger man exclaimed, crossing the room toward Yohji.  He leaned against the wall across from the smoking playboy, crossing his arms expectantly.

            "Oh fuck you."  Yohji chuckled but still didn't look at him.  He couldn't exactly tell Ken what had really happened in there, now could he?  He, the chaser of women, who had just made a move on their icy leader.  It was unheard of.

            Ken grinned but still awaited his answer.

            "I just probably said a couple of things I obviously shouldn't have said.  I pretty much asked for it."  He shrugged it off nonchalantly and took another drag, this one a bit more desperate as he hoped Ken would buy that and let the matter drop.  But he knew the soccer player better than that and something told him that the younger assassin was not about to just let it drop that easily.  Oh but one could hope, ne?

            "Why are you defending him?"

            Yohji nearly choked on his cigarette and looked at Ken.  "What!"

            "You're defending him.  Why?"

            "The bastard punched me, why the hell would I be defending him?"  A guilty person's answer.

            Ken arced a brow, cyan blue eyes meeting Yohji's emerald gaze.  "You've been acting weird since last night's briefing."

            "Define weird." 

            "Almost nervous every time Aya's around.  When we found him in the lot you took all responsibility. Fuck, you even stayed the night in his room when we had already made sure he was fine."

            Yohji looked at him.  The current cigarette was getting to the end.  He reached in his pack for another one and lit it from the still lit butt, puffing desperately on it.  He was starting to feel ever so awkward with the conversation.  And he thought Omi was the enlightened one, but at least the kid did not pull these interrogations.  

            "You also haven't had a date all week."  Ken continued with his observations, noticing Yohji's growing discomfort but not hesitating in the least.  Quite on the contrary, he pushed the case further.  "Have you got a thing for Aya, or something?"

            "Baka!"  That had done it.  Yohji gave Ken a light slap to the head and moved away from the windowsill.  No, of course he didn't have a thing for Aya; that would be suicide.  But then again, he hadn't gotten punched because of the kiss.  Or at least he didn't think so.  The punch had come when he mentioned that hickey on the pallid man's neck.  He still wondered where it came from; jealousy perhaps?  He didn't know.  Hell this was a slightly confusing situation he had here and Ken's questioning and observations did not help matters.  He hated how the former soccer player, despite his hot temper and general clumsiness was still quite aware of what was going on around him, more so than he allowed others to realize.  

Until moments such as this.

He felt Ken's hand on his shoulder and glanced back at his shorter teammate, a questioning look in his emerald orbs.

"Don't bother, Yohji.  The guy's an icicle."  His voice sounded so sincere that it almost startled Yohji.  He had to blink in order to make sure that it was still Ken whom he was talking to.  

It was.

Ken offered the puzzled Yohji a genuine grin and slid past him.  Instead of walking around him, no, he had slid against the older man, fingers brushing across Yohji's bare waist as he moved toward the door.

A cigarette fell from parted lips, collapsing to the wooden floor.  

Luckily Yohji had managed to put it out before a fire was started.  However, he still stared at the now closed door.  What had just happened?

------------------------------------------ 

I'm not sure whether or not I like this chapter.  But hey, at least it's longer than the others!  ^_^   Mmm… we also have some interesting things taking place now.  I blame this mild change of events on Nikol.  She's such a bad influence on me.  Don't forget to review!!


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: You have to get tired of this. I don't own them, that's that.

Thanks: To all you guys that have been reviewing!  ^_^  Tia, for wheeeeing me all the way.  Orin, for chanting for lovely threesomes.  Tmelange, for reviewing all those chapters one by one. You rock. ^_~  Soulstrife for appreciating my Glare O'Death copyright… okay I'll stop now.  

**Chapter Six**

            He wasn't one to wear turtlenecks during the day, especially when the weather called for something lighter, but Aya was not about to let that morning's events repeat themselves with either of the other two Weiß members.  Thus a dark gray turtleneck it was.  He could deal with a little extra heat, but not with the extra questioning regarding the goddamn mark on his neck.  A hickey.  Aya had gotten himself a hickey, of all things to happy to him during a mission.

            His mind still wandered wildly over the events that had just taken place – including the annoying purring voice in his head still trying to both seduce him and convince him of Yohji's risqué actions.  A conquest.  That's all that it had been.

            "Aya-kun…" Omi's quiet voice interrupted his bitter thought process.  "Since when do you drink coffee?"

            Aya blinked at the genki, then glanced down at the steaming mug he held between his palms.  Had he really made it down to the kitchen, brewed coffee, poured himself a mug and sat in his usual spot at the table all without even realizing it?  

            It was happening again.

            "Hn." Was his only response.  What more could he possibly say?  All he needed was a cigarette and he'd make the perfect Yohji impersonator.  He watched Omi lower himself into the seat next to him.  Just what was the kid doing?  He swore he could sense a lecture – or something like it – starting to brew.  How he did not like this.  Should've gotten up before Omi had a chance to make himself comfortable.

            "Aya… are you is everything alright?"

            Too late.  Damnit.  "Aa."

            "We were worried about you… the past couple of days you've been a little out of it and then last night's mission-"

            "I'm fine."

            Aya's insisting tone caused Omi to pause for a moment but the way he lowered those huge blue eyes and bit his lip was enough to tell Aya that the conversation, unfortunately, was still not through.  

            "About Yohji," the younger Weiß member continued.  Aya exhaled and sipped at his steaming caffeine induced brew.  "You've gotten in fights with Ken before, but never Yohji.  What happened in there?" He asked timidly without picking his gaze up from the wooden table.

            No answer.  The icy redhead leader continued to drink, amethyst eyes shut to the world, but especially to Omi, who inquired over the very things he had just been trying to figure out himself.  No, not figure out but perhaps make sense of.  Things he did not want to explain.  Things that shouldn't even be said.  It was only when he felt those big blue orbs gaze to him curiously, questioning that he returned the gaze through half-lidded violets.  It was unbelievable but he almost found it hard to lie – or rather, omit the truth from Omi.

            "It doesn't matter."  He finally responded but obviously not the reply Omi had been hoping for by the sigh that escaped his lips.  It was one of despair.  Obviously he had gone in there with higher expectations.  A conversation with Aya was a very, very rare bird to find.  One of those that had been thought to be extinct quite a few years ago.  But sometimes, on rare, odd occasions, Omi did succeed in getting a few more words out of their icy cold leader.  This wasn't one of those times.  

            Before any other questions were put forth and on the open, Aya stood.  Quiet steps led him to the sink in which he deposited his half-empty mug.  He was never much of a coffee drinker – it wasn't like he needed the caffeine.  Just as quietly he exited the kitchen.

            There were footsteps upstairs, the light opening and closing of doors, but no voices to match the movements to.  Aya wasn't exactly in the right mood to face either Yohji or Ken at that very moment.  Quite on the contrary: he might do something stupid if he saw Yohji and Ken… well, that was a story of it's own.  He opted for the only choice available to him: the keys to his cherished Porsche found their way into his hand.  The distance to the garage was covered fairly quickly, wanting to get out of the house before whoever was wandering about upstairs decided to descend.  No, now as not the time to face either of them.  Instead, he needed to think.  Within moments he found himself within the white sports car and gracefully rounding the corner out of the alley that served as their access way and onto the road.

* * *

            "Where's Aya?" came the half-mumbled question from lips too busy holding a cigarette between them.

            "Just left."  Answered Omi as he watched their leader's car gradually disappear down the street.  Before Yohji could make his escape (what was it with people doing that today?), the question was dropped like a stone.  "Is everything alright between you and Aya?"

            Having a cigarette was a good thing; a wonderful thing indeed.  Yohji took a drag, and then exhaled slowly; emerald eyes watching the smoke drift steadily, mixing with the particles that floated in the invisible air they breathed and disintegrate to become nothing more than a scent floating about the kitchen.  "Hai," he responded after a moment and a few impatient looks from Omi.  A grin touched his lips, the grin he offered women (18 and over) when trying to sell them a flower or two at the shop, the grin he offered someone when telling a blatant lie when the truth would not be beneficial.  Omi knew that grin all too well. He'd seen it more than once when things got bad for them – usually during missions.  He did not like seeing it now.  It worried him even further.  "Don't worry about it, bishonen."

            The very statement only made Omi worry further.

* * * 

            Aya was not exactly sure just where he was going; he watched the streets go by without his brain registering where he was.  The surroundings still appeared familiar, so at least he hadn't gotten himself lost, which didn't mean that he didn't much rather be lost.  His mind was not his own once again.  Bt he now realized that all those lost hours the previous day hadn't been lost at all.  It was happening all over again: the endless wandering, the blank questions, the devilish thoughts that seeped into his mind without any control.  He understood now – as much as one under the given circumstances was able to understand.

            Red light meant stop.  He did, listening to the humming of the finely tuned motor.  But then there were two: a car had pulled up beside him.  A car he recognized.  A car with the steering wheel on the left just like his own.  But one brighter than his – a light shade of red that complimented its owner and driver within.

            _Hello kitten_.  Was the greeting that assaulted his mind.  He looked to his right, eyeing the car closely as the driver's side window was lowered.  Bright jade orbs… a sly grin… a wild mane of fiery red.  All this greeted him with a harsh shot through the gut.

            "Schuldich…" Aya hissed.  The flashbacks came back in full force – the previous night's mission, that morning's incident, the taunting whisperings as he tried to shower.  Not even there he was left in peace.  But then again, was he ever?

            Green light meant go.  He didn't.  A honk from behind made him react.  Aya took off but knew that the Schwarz assassin followed closely behind.  He couldn't see the car anymore but _felt_ him nearby, that intense gaze burning into his back.  It was eerie, yet… oddly comfortable.  He was truly starting to accept the fact that he had lost his mind.  Soon he'd be in an asylum and not at the Koneko.  

Why Aya pulled over into an empty restaurant parking lot, he wasn't sure.  Why he got out of the car, he wasn't sure.  Why he waited for Schuldich to do the same and join him near the Porsche, he was not sure either.  But one thing was for sure: he attributed grasping onto the older man's collar, pushing him against the side of the white car and instead of punching him, pressing a forceful kiss to his lips, to having completely lost all last traces of sanity he still contained within him.  

            Had the telepath controlled Aya's mind into reacting the way he did?

            … unlikely so, considering the momentary look of surprise that touched Schuldich's usually knowing face.  Not even he knew the other redhead assassin would be as daring as to take such initiative.  He had expected a fight perhaps, some resistance, but _this_?  Schuldich was not one to keep wondering for long, however, and soon thereafter, Aya felt the kiss be returned with intensity that fought for control.  Aya liked to be in control, however he found it nearly impossible to keep up the fight for much longer.  Instead, he gave into the other man's controlling nature; even his hold on the German's white shirt was gradually loosened.

            Drifting.

                        Darkness.

                                    Lost.

                                                Comfort.

            Aya broke the kiss with a gasp of what could've been surprise; amethyst eyes narrowing on the smirking figure before him.  A hand touched his cheek.  He did not pull away as he usually would at the slightest bit of contact.

            "I knew you'd come back," he heard Schuldich's words both out loud and echoing in his mind.  He knew these words.  He had heard them before… that meant… "you always do." The Schwarz member – his rival – finished with a purr.

                                                            Nightmare.

                                                                        Reality.

-----------------------------------------------

Well… that was unexpected.  ^_~  Sorry for taking so long to post this up.  School work has been catching up with me, but at least this chapter was longer than the others! Hoorah for inspiration and evilness.  ::Innocent smile.::  Dun forget to review! ^_^


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: For the seventh time, I don't own any of the character. I'm having fun, leave me alone.

Thanks: To everyone that reviewed and has been reading from the beginning.  You're kewl. ^_^

Warnings:  There's a bit of a lime pushing lemon scene in this chapter, so I guess that'd make it rated R. ^_~  And of course, there's the usual colorful language we all know and love.

**Chapter Seven**

Pain.  Throbbing pain pounding in his head. What was going on? What the hell had just happened? Constant beeping - the interval of mere seconds. Cell phone?  A message perhaps.  Movement beside him.  The shifting of a mattress not his own.  The light sound of breathing. He wasn't alone. What a strange feeling.  Flesh, a touch of another so closely beside him. An arm draped over his middle almost protectively, or perhaps possessively would be the better word. A light breath against his neck. Consciousness slowly returned. Gradual steps, painful almost. Darkness. All around him was darkness. How many hours had gone by? And just who was he laying next to--frozen thoughts.

Consciousness hit Aya like a brick wall... or perhaps a speeding truck, rushing at him headlights first, followed by a blaring horn and then, finally, impact. Amethyst eyes snapped open, coming face to face with the mystery person that was draped over him. It hadn't been a dream - it was instead a living nightmare.  Schuldich shifted slightly, lids fluttered but did not open. Aya stared in what could've only been disbelief. He only now felt the warmth of the room balanced by the lack of clothing he wore. The sheets - black satin - were draped over his waist, riding dangerously low. But from what he started to remember that had happened, it didn't really matter if he covered up now. A shudder raced down his spine and he tentatively inched away from the sleeping telepath.

It had happened again, the loss of control that led to unanswered questions.  The familiarity of all of this startled him.  Aya managed to inch out of Schuldich's grasp and crawl out of bed.  Shaky as he was, he managed to get away and move to the large window across the room.  He knew exactly what he would see but couldn't allow himself to accept that minor fact.  The city stretched out before him, the ground far bellow from their high spot.  Schwarz headquarters, of course, and once again.  Aya felt the growing anxiety and terror seep up within him, although his outward appearance remained the same.  His reflection on the glass window seemed distorted, however; stained, guilty and inwardly powerless.  How else would he have ended up here once again?

Amethyst eyes were forced shut, hands brought up to his face as if to hide him from the hellish nightmare that had become his life.  It was then that all those "missing hours" came rushing back to him.

* _flashback_*

Lips, so sweet and sinful pressed to his with almost brutal force as he felt himself be slammed back against a wall.  Almost there.  The jingling of keys, the opening of a door.  In he went, to hear the door slam shut behind him.  Those lips never left his and he didn't think the hunger could ever be sated.

This was his enemy's bedroom that he had just been led into all so willingly.  Why?  Ah, fuck the questions!  The burning passion within him was stronger than common sense; the throbbing heat in his groin more influential than coherency.  Lust.  Pure fucking lust dominated his thoughts and mind, blanking him out of everything else he should be thinking of, including getting the hell out of there.  Clothes were scattered to the floor as there was no need for them.  First his own, a reasonably simple outfit as usual; then followed by Schuldich's stylish wardrobe.  The man was sex on two legs, just like… a sharp pain shot up his lip, bringing all of his thoughts back to the matter at hand, which at the moment appeared to be Schuldich's throbbing member.

He heard the German gasp sharply against his lips, soon he found himself being thrown back onto the mattress.  Black satin sheets… just like the telepath had said earlier that morning.  There was no time for foreplay when pure, almost animalistic passion dominated the moment.  Schuldich crawled over him, teasing the head of his arousal with most lips and promptly receiving a satisfying groan in response.  Aya was his; completely and utterly.  That's when his first (but definitely not last) scream of the day came.  He squirmed beneath his enemy and lover's touch as exploring fingers prepared him for what was to come next.  His eyes were pressed shut, slender fingers grasping at the sheets beneath him, his breath deep and ragged as groans of pleasure escaped his semi parted lips.  So vulnerable.

Schuldich must've decided that he was ready as he paused, much to Aya's dismay that reflected by the way he exhaled with a tiny whine of protest.  He heard the German chuckle quietly, that sly grin never leaving his lips as he took the few seconds to coat himself with the lubricant he'd snatched from the nightstand earlier and settled between Aya's creamy white thighs.  Jade eyes met amethysts, both pairs shining in lustful anticipation when Schuldich finally buried himself to…

* _end of flashback_ *

"Up already, kitten?"  Schuldich's purring voice from behind startled Aya out of his wandering thoughts.  Thoughts he knew that the telepath must've been enjoying greatly.  He could tell by the amused tone in his husky voice.  Unfortunately for Aya, his body had betrayed him once again, reacting rather nicely to the images that were still flashing across his mind.  He swallowed dryly and watched the scenery outside, not knowing what to say.  Aya felt ashamed; of what he had done, no – of who he had done it with was the correct term.

He couldn't help but shudder as he felt the German's slender, yet finely toned arms wrap around him in an almost torturing form: his fingers sliding over the outlines of Aya's abdomen ever so slowly.  Schuldich pressed himself closely to the Weiss assassin, flesh to flesh, toned chest to pallid, unmarred back.  His lips found their way to Aya's neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive flesh.  That's when Aya winced slightly and right away knew that the German was marking him further.  It was a sign of possession.  Teeth sunk into his flesh, causing him to let out a small groan.  Whether it was of protest of pleasure it couldn't be told.  "Don't…" he found himself whispering.  It worked only to make Schuldich pause, even if it was to simply whisper into his ear.

"You're mine, Fujimiya Ran.  Don't you forget that."

How could one forget something like that?

* * *

The sound of the garage door being lowered alerted the three Weiss members.  Omi was sitting in front of his computer, blasting away at electronic zombies, while Ken and Yohji were sprawled out on the couch.  All three pairs of eyes turned to the door that led from the garage into the mission room.

Aya looked at them and shut the door behind him.  "Nani?" He asked irritably when no one said anything but only looked on as if he had seven heads… or knew something he didn't.  He felt himself cringe inwardly but his outward expression was the same as always.  That never changed.  Yohji, especially looked at him with a strange look in those emerald eyes; a look he couldn't identify but did not bother to analyze just yet.  And just why was the fact that he and ken were looking so goddamn comfortable on the couch begin to bother him after only mere seconds?

-----------------------------

Yes, I know I'm an evil son-of-a bitch.  ::Grins.::  A little short, but at least it's a quick update.  Not as many reviews for the previous chapter. How disappointing. Maybe I'll get some now... even if it's hate mail. ^_^


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimers: Dun own 'em.  Wish I did.  A girl can dream. 

Author's Notes: I'm so sorry for taking so long to update this. -_-;;;;  The other muses have been louder and I've had to answer to them, as well as school work.  But here it is!  Finally… after nearly two months.  _;; 

Warnings: Language, shounen-ai.  The usual.

**Dreamweaver**

**Chapter Eight**

            Aya was not one to worry about a given thing for too long and thus turned his gaze away from the other two that watched him; Ken had returned to watching the TV screen as the news woman announced some soccer game results.  Omi watched him with those blue-worry filled eyes but did not say a word.  Yohji, too, didn't utter a word but the look in those perfect emeralds was almost frightening.  It wasn't like the look he gave his targets before strangling them to death; nor was it the playful or flirtatious look Aya was all too used to seeing.  There was…something else.  Damnit, if he only knew what had happened while he was… out.  Right. Out.  Trying to pay no more attention to those piercing emeralds, Aya moved past them. He couldn't help but notice how Ken had a leg thrown over the playboy's knee in the most casual (or was it?) of fashions.  He felt the sharp fangs of jealousy begin to sink deeply into him once again.  _You're mine, Fujimiya Ran.  Don't you forget that._  The words flooded his mind, but he wasn't sure if it had been his own subconscious reminding him of the incident that had happened, or the projected voice of his archenemy recently turned lover.

            "Is everything alright?" asked Omi, finally breaking the silence between the four Weiß assassins.  

            There was the slightest hesitation, probably one that would give him away, but hopefully taken as mere reluctance to respond.  "Aa."

            "Where have you been?"  Asked Ken before Aya was able to escape upstairs.

            "Hn."

            "That's not a goddamn answer."

            Silence.  It was Yohji that shook his head, practically telling Ken to shut up before things got out of hand.  Again.

            "No, I'm not gonna shut up!"  Ken intervened as he sat up to look at Aya who stood where he had stopped moments earlier; one foot on the first step, hand on the railing and body half turned to look at the younger, hot headed ex soccer player.

            "It's none of your business where I've been," he answered coldly to the surprise of both Omi and Yohji, who turned to look at him.  Aya was staring at Ken intently.  The younger man refused to back down from the staring contest.  The truth was, he could win a fistfight with the redhead but a staring contest?  That was a joke.  Ken scowled at him.  Aya continued, again surprising them all by using more than five words in a sentence.  "I don't carry out an interrogation when any of you decide to disappear without warning.  I expect the same."  And with that, he ascended quietly up the stairs, leaving the other three fourths of the team positively staring after him.

            "…he spoke." Commented Ken.

            "Ken-kun!" Omi reprimanded.

            Aya had heard both of their comments but paid no heed.  It was what he did best, simply ignore all else that went on around him.  Right now there was just one thing he needed, he realized as he climbed the stairs to the second floor, and that was the bathroom.  He suddenly felt sick and nearly made a dash for the door as he reached the top of the stairs.  Jean-clad knees hit the floor and the door was slammed shut behind him.  He felt _very_ sick.

*  *  *

            Just as he was trying to get rid of the rotating room around him, Aya was disrupted out of the secluding silence by a knock on the door.  Dazed violets glanced up, but he had done it too quickly and thus spinning of the room returned full force once again to haunt him.  He was sitting against the edge of the tub, one knee pulled up to his chest to serve as support for his gradually imploding head.  Before he even had the chance to tell whoever that was to go away ('cause he sure as hell was not going to try and get up just yet), the doorknob was turned and the door pushed open.

            "Aya?" came Yohji's half-questioning, half-worried voice as he stepped inside.

            The redhead inwardly groaned.  If someone had to find him like this, at least it should've been Omi.  The genki knew when to question and when to just proceed in silence.  But Yohji… why did it have to be him?  _Doushite?_

            "K'so!" The older man cursed under his breath upon seeing the extent of his teammate's situation.  Yohji himself didn't even look that bad when suffering from a hangover.  "Are you alright?" He asked stupidly and moved toward the even paler than usual redhead.

            "Hn…" was the mumbled reply.  Not that Yohji was expecting much else.  By this point Aya was simply wishing for the other man to go away and leave him in his sickening peace.  He got no such thing.  From beneath wispy red bangs he watched the playboy kneels down in front of him with a look of genuine worry on those beautiful emeralds.  As the physical contact of Yohji's fingers upon his arm registered in his brain, Aya stiffened instinctively.  It couldn't be helped.   He did not appreciate being touched… oh wasn't that just the lie of the year?

            "What happened to you?" the voice made him cringe.  _Too loud_, he wanted to say but just didn't find the strength to do so.  He didn't even dare to shake his head no in fear that it would really implode in on itself.  Violet orbs attempted to focus on the fingers touching his arm but found them blurry and kinda dancing about.  It was actually something he would have found amusing under different circumstances.

            It wasn't until moments later that he found himself more stable as to respond.  However, no one said that it would have to be a pleasant response.  "Nothing," was all he said and attempted to push himself up, only to fail miserably and end up back on the floor with Yohji's supporting arms around him.  Aya felt himself rise in temperature and hoped that no blush gave him away.  He had had enough humiliation for one day.  Oh, but warmth brought by those long arms, the feel of the other man's body closely pressed to his own was something hard to resist.  Those full lips, so close and inviting, those seductive eyes, which made Aya feel almost like one of those foolish girls at the store that melted beneath that look.

            A little closer… those lips now not just a wish but a reality, sweet, soft and now pressing to his own.

            That was when something sparked in his mind.  Aya never thought he'd be able to do this but he forced himself to break the kiss and untangle himself from the all-too comforting hold.  

            "No!" he breathed, holding onto his dangerously spinning head.

            "Nanda-te?"  Asked Yohji, both confused and seemingly hurt by the rejecting.  He was met with cold amethyst eyes, the cold gaze they all recognized.  Very few times had he seen a more vulnerable look and now that it was there, it was quickly turned to ice once again.  "Gomen…" he offered quickly.  "If it's about what I said earlier…"

            This time the response was a scowl.  The last thing Aya needed was to be reminded of that incident – it threw his mind into overdrive as to how it had happened; how it had just been reapplied less than an hour earlier; how fucking mind blowing the process that led to it had been… there he went again.  To avoid more incidents, he pushed himself up unsteadily, using the wall for support.  He heard the older man scramble up and approach to his aid.  An icy cold glare was enough to inform Yohji that he needed no help.  How humiliating.  "Don't touch me," he said quietly, all the while inwardly hoping for the contrary – oh Gods, please do.  Just slam me back against the wall and seduce me like the whore you are.  Ravish me until the morning… -- this was, of course, neither spoken nor reflected upon cold masked features.  

            The footsteps gradually leading one of their teammates up the stairs was what made Aya move; half stumbling out of the bathroom in order to seclude himself within the haven of his room 0 the only place he could really be at ease without being bothered.  Kind of.  Or at least, he hoped.  In order to make sure this was so, he turned the lock on the door.

* * *

            Yohji appeared at the doorway to the bathroom just as Ken made it up the stairs.  They looked at one another for a moment, but it was Ken who spoke up first.  

            "Daijoubou, Yohji?"

            "'Course."  A quick, hasty answer.  Never a good sign, it seemed.  

            The playboy started to walk away, hoping to seclude himself away with his thoughts but he hadn't been as lucky as Aya mere seconds earlier.  No, Ken was there and Ken was there to stop him before he reached the door.  And even when the younger man was ignored and walked around, Ken still followed him inside the large room uninvited.  What was up with him lately?  A sigh touched the playboy's lips as he struggled with the damn lighter that just didn't want to come alive and give him the necessary little fire that would feed his fixation.  "What do you want?"

            "You nearly ran upstairs after him, Yohji."

            Silence.  The playboy was much to busy puffing on the little cancer stick he had finally managed to light.  

            "Is it so much of a big deal that I don't want to see you hurt?"    

            This time Yohji did glance up to look at the younger man that watched him intently with unusual seriousness that rarely did they ever seen plastered on that cheerful face.  "Ken…"

            "No, don't say a word."  There was that façade, that beaming smile, which always reached his eyes.  He was almost as good an actor as Aya.  "No need to explain yourself, Yohji."

            "I wasn---"  the older man began but did not even get the chance to finish as Ken merely turned his back, walking toward the door.  Just like earlier he was left staring after the young man as he touched the doorknob and without looking back moved outside.

            "You've gotten burnt once.  Don't do it again."  Ken said quietly before escaping out into the hallway.  His hushed footsteps were heard as he walked away from the room.

            Emerald eyes were lost in confusion, puzzled over both Ken's behavior and words.  This wasn't like him… hell, nothing was normal as of lately, starting with Aya.  Ah, but Aya was a whole different story, wasn't he?  Sighing, he lowered his gaze, taking a long drag from his cigarette.  Such wonderful addiction it was.  He idly remembered Ken's words earlier on… his behavior down in the mission room… the way they sat all so casually… the more than usual aggression toward Aya… the incident just now.

            What was going on? 

            An ashtray was sought out and he crushed the poor innocent little stick on the glass surface.  

            There was more going on here than he knew about, on both Ken and Aya's sides.  What it was… he wasn't sure he was going to figure out, but the latter seemed more unlikely that he would get an answer for.  At least right away but the former…  Ken… could he…?

            "Nah…"  he told himself, not sounding all too confident but it'd have to do for now.  For now…  

            _Damnit, it's giving me a headache._

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Please forgive me for the overall suckiness of this chapter as well as the tardiness of it.  I think my muse doesn't like me anymore. -_-;  I honestly don't know if I want to continue this but I feel bad leaving everyone hanging. I'll have to do some brainstorming and actually map something out.  Bear with me, please? o.o;   Reviews are much appreciated, especially right now.  


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